


Gone

by coralreefskim



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron)-centric, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Paladin Allura (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Coping, Crying, F/M, Kinda, Lots of tears, Minor Klance, everyones pov yay, in which they cope with loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralreefskim/pseuds/coralreefskim
Summary: ‘It’ll be alright,’ she told herself, ‘we have time.’They didn’t.or: in which Shiro is gone and Allura realizes something she'd always known





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ciuucalata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciuucalata/gifts).



> hope you liek dis (ive been taking so long to write this)

She felt it the first time he touched her.

It was a fleeting touch. It didn’t linger for long. It wasn’t even intentional -- it was convenient, he was there when she fell -- _after one of her little memoirs of where she came from was destroyed by her own hands_ \-- and she just so happened to fall into his arms.

The touch was fleeting.

The feeling wasn’t.

She felt it whenever the stares lingered longer than necessary. She felt it whenever their fingers brushed against each other. She felt it whenever he smiled, chuckled, laughed -- _literally anything really_ \-- whenever those fond looks were directed at her.

She felt it whenever she was around him. Thought of him. She would see something that reminded her of him and she’d feel that particular feeling so strongly to the point where she felt it might swallow her entire being alive.

She felt comfort around him. Peace. Calm. And that word she refused to acknowledge that started with the letter ‘l’.

She didn’t want to though.

They had a duty. They needed to protect the homes of people from the empire that took hers away from her. They needed to make sure no tragedies -- or, at least, as little tragedies as possible -- happened on any more innocent people. They needed to make the universe a safe place.

These feelings -- they were only in the way. She didn’t want them. So call her selfish if you want, but she’d keep them to herself.

And maybe -- _maybe_ \-- someday, when the war is over, when peace is finally restored in the universe, maybe she’ll tell him. Maybe he’ll tell her too. Maybe they’ll even have a life together after that.

Not now, though.

‘ _It’ll be alright_ ,’ she told herself, ‘ _we have time._ ’

 

They didn’t.

 

It was silent.

He was gone.

Allura stood in the Black Lion’s cockpit, frozen in place. She couldn’t believe what she’s seeing. She couldn’t _accept_ it.

(What she was seeing, as in what she was hoping she’d see, as in _the lack of what she was seeing_.)

Around her the paladins were beginning to stir from their trance. She could barely sense their anxiety. Barely sense the other Lions’ cries. Sense the Black Lion’s panic, her _fear_.

She barely registered someone whispering, “He’s gone.”

_She couldn’t feel anything._

She barely heard the muffled sob. She barely heard the all-out crying. She barely heard the frustrated scream.

_Why him, of all people?_

He was gone.

She couldn’t feel anything.

 

Coran was the first one who noticed.

Not really a surprise, of course. They were closer than they were with any other living creature thus far. Plus, Coran had been there for her whenever her father was too busy with all the royal duties he had to attend to. He’d been there for her from before her mother left. Heck, he’d been there for her even before she was born.

And with the war going on, with everything they’ve experienced, it would be an understatement to say that they were just closely bonded. Coran was basically her surrogate father at this point.

So of course, he was the first to notice her trembling hands. The hidden tears. He was the first to notice whenever her smile wavered, or when her lips quivered, whenever she suddenly stopped, turned away and left without another word during meetings and mission debriefings. He noticed her expression whenever someone mentioned _him_.

He didn’t know what to think of it.

He wasn’t sure what was plaguing her thoughts -- well, truth be told, it was obvious _who_ , but in all the long years he’d seen her growing up, he’d never seen her like this. She hadn’t ever acted this -- this _depressed_ , save for the predicament they were in.

Sometimes he’d look at her and see King Alfor in her -- they were so alike in many ways, yet so different. While King Alfor had been a lenient leader, always sympathizing with wrong doers and giving people second chances unless they pushed over the limit, she was strict and firm. The type to lead their army into battle from the front lines. The type who would empathize with the poor and needy. Not a dictator, no, unlike Zarkon -- her father had raised her well. He’d be proud of how far she’s progressed.

Yet, despite their differences, sometimes Coran saw himself in her too. Most of the time, though, it was more because of the sorrow harboring within her. That sorrow screamed longing for warmth, comfort, _home_. It longed for familial bonds , uncaring of blood relations. It longed for what they could no longer have.

Least to say, he was also the first to know the reason why she became… this.

He saw her alone in the deck one day, sitting by the wall, lips opening and closing as if she was stuck between crying quietly and screaming, hands still by her side, staring blankly at the empty seat at the main pilot’s place. He sighed, walking over to her as silent as possible, and knelt by her side.

“Princess,” he muttered, “you must rest.”

She buried her face in her hands. “I cannot.”

He placed a hand on hers and stroked the back of her palm gently, trying to replicate comforting memories of the King for her. When she realized what he was doing, she sucked in a breath in surprise, then relaxed, breathing shallowly.

“Princess,” he said again, this time with a slightly louder tone. “What are your orders?”

She looked up to him finally. Her Altean marks glowed dully, unlike their old radiance. Her eyes were red and puffy from the tears streaking down her face, and she was still shaking slightly, and even though it was cold he knew it was because of a different reason.

“I don’t know, Coran,” she huffed, tone slightly edged with panic. “ _I don’t know_. I know my father would carry himself and move on if I were him, but I am not him. I don’t have a clue on what to do.”

“Princess Allura,” he started, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I was your father’s Royal Adviser from since before he became the King of Altea, and allow me to tell you this -- while you may not be your father, you are as good of a leader as he was, maybe even more so.” He breathed in, gripping his hand in a more desperate, pleading manner. “On behalf of your father, on behalf of the paladins, on behalf of the universe, on behalf of _him_ ” -- she choked back a sob -- “I ask that you have faith in your own decisions.” He pulled her in for a hug. She didn’t resist, thankfully, and only seemed to lean into his embrace. “I trust you. We all do.”

He pulled her in for a hug. She didn’t resist, thankfully, and only seemed to lean into his embrace. “I trust you. _We all do_.”

“Oh Coran,” she whispered, burying her forehead in the crook of his neck, gripping his back like it was the only support she could find. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“We _will_ find him,” he said lowly, stroking her hair in a weak attempt at comfort, as if the words were for the sake of her -- _because honestly they were even though he didn’t know if it was a promise he could keep_ \-- “I’ll make sure of it.”

She only seemed to cry harder.

 

A few days after what happened, Lance took one look at her and said probably the singular most stupid and insensitive thing he’d ever said in his life, “Are you okay?”

_Of course she isn’t_ , he cursed internally, seeing her already broken expression get even more so. _Of course she isn’t. Who would be after something like that?_

“Please ignore what I just said because I wasn’t thinking,” Lance quickly added, hands all over the place in exaggerated gestures, “though of course you already _know_ that ‘cause I mean, well, you’re _you_ , and I’m _me_ , plus who would be after what happened ‘cause honestly everything really sucks right now and -- you know what, can I just rephrase what I was saying because I have no idea where I was going with this.”

She looked at Lance with a blank expression -- _Quiznak_ , Lance thought with a sheepish smile, an image of she throwing him out of the airlock very clear in his mind -- and she threw her head back and _laughed_. Like, the type of laugh where it’s deep from your belly, full out. And it took Lance so much by surprise he kinda just stared at her with a dumb expression at first, but then her laughter, while being really funny, was also _infectious_ , to the point where he couldn’t help but laugh with her until both their stomachs hurt.

The laughter died down eventually, and she wiped at the tears at her eyes, smiling at Lance gratefully. “Thank you,” she whispered (the first thing she’d said to anyone else after _that time_ ). She nodded at him, as if dismissing herself, then turned to leave.

He’d noticed this behavior since from when it started, really, but he thought she’d pick herself right up right away, especially after everything she’d been through. Calling her strong-willed was an understatement -- she was _more_ than strong. She had a strong character, bordering on _intimidating_ even, and her presence normally grounded everyone around her, with how her head is always high with pride and her spine straight with dignity, despite every terrible thing the universe decided to throw at her.

Now, though. Now she seemed like a mere shell of her older self, and Lance knew someone needed to do something about it but honestly he didn’t know how anyone could fill the void in her left empty by _him_.

Nonetheless, he’ll try his hardest to make her feel at least a little better. Even if his hardest might be terrible. A try was still a try. Plus, as much as he tended to hide his overwhelming affection for his teammates, he _did_ feel overwhelming affection for them, despite the short period they’ve spent together. She wasn’t an exception.

_Here goes._

He gripped her wrist lightly. He wasn’t using much strength, though she didn’t attempt to shrug him off. “Hey. Allura? I know I’m not really in any position to say this -- hah, ‘cause I’m a leg and all _man Hunk is a bad influence on me_ ” -- she snorted, eyes slightly beginning to look red -- “but I need to, you know, clear up the air and stuff.”

She looked at him, as if expecting something lighthearted.

“He’d want all of us to be happy,” he continued, taking in her wide eyes at his words. “He’d want _you_ to be happy. And I _know_ you don’t want to hear this” -- _I know you’re probably not gonna believe what I’m saying_ \-- “but everything will turn out for the better.” He released her hand, relieved when she didn’t leave when he did. “I mean… we’re all sad about what happened, about what happened to him. Everyone’s just kinda burying those emotions in them, ya know?” Except for one other person. Lance should really check on him later. “So you’re not alone in this. We’re here for you. For _each other_.”

She stayed silent.

“And… you said we were brought together for a reason, right? Destiny and stuff?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I do recall saying that.”

“If so,” he pursed his lips, “destiny shouldn’t be broken so easily, right? It _can’t_. So just… have faith, I guess. If not for your own sake, then… for his.”

Her eyes were beginning to water.

“Oh man, oh man please don’t cry tears are my only weakness I mean have you seen me with my siblings--”

She laughed through her tears, and before Lance could even stop to process what was happening, arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Thank you thank you _thank you_.”

He hugged her back with an equal sense of desperation, because seeing her like this _hurt_. He debated over whether he should say anything, but decided to stay silent, at least until she stopped sobbing, patting her back in a weak attempt at comfort. “We’ll find him, yea?”

She laughed quietly like she didn’t believe him.

 

Hunk noticed when she didn’t laugh at his joke.

Okay, that probably sounded kinda insensitive, but honestly? He was really worried. He knew what she was thinking about, of course -- it was on everyone’s minds, it was there in the air, and for some reason no one seemed to want to address the situation. Hunk could totally understand why, but really, _why_?

Though every time he saw her, he did know why.

He wasn’t the type to be in denial of anything. He normally accepted the truth as it is, especially if the truth was standing right in front of him -- but maybe he was a little in denial of everything that’s happening. Maybe he was still convinced that all of this was just another one of his elaborate dreams, one so ridiculous and illogical he’d wake up the next day remembering everything and he’d tell Lance and Pidge about all of it. Maybe then they’d just laugh and move on with whatever they were doing before this happened.

Because this -- all this was just so _unfair_.

And sure, he knew his duty, it was fate, they needed to protect to universe from evil purple aliens, _fine_. But was it really _necessary_ to just--

_No one deserved anything he’d gone through._

He’s getting off topic.

She wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. Not even when he recounted that one funny tale about what happened to Pidge with the food goo (she slipped. Continuously. Hunk had to pick her up out of the Forbidden Zone, as she now dubbed it). Not even when he referenced one of their inside jokes (it was about the similarities between the Altean slipperies and human flu). Not even when he finally managed to persuade the mice to put on a specially made show for her (the persuasion involved a lot of experimental flavored food goo, and honestly there were so many potential ongoing experiments to be made from those but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good).

Lance was beside her, for some reason. He was chatting with Hunk, as if he was trying to ignore the tension heavy in the air. Lance and Allura had been closer for the past few weeks, and while Hunk was happy for Lance, it felt like Lance was acting as her ambassador. He knew Lance meant well, but this wasn’t healthy.

Hunk couldn’t take it.

“Okay, can I just. Say something real quick?”

She looked up at the sudden seriousness of his voice. Lance, probably knowing what Hunk was planning to say, had his eyes widened and did a cutting motion across his neck repeatedly.

Hunk twiddled his thumbs. “So I know there’s this… uh… thing.” Lance groaned and fell to his back theatrically. “Issue? That none of us have been addressing and it’s actually kinda making me anxious, somewhat? I mean I know it’s probably a really sensitive thing to talk about and I know everyone’s trying to cope with it but honestly we really really need to clear it out before the Galra find us.” He paused. “Do you know what I’m talking about? I’m pretty sure you do--”

“Hunk,” Lance groaned, face scrunched up as if he was constipated or something. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can you--”

“Lance,” she spoke. They both turned to look at her, eyebrows quirked up in surprise at her sudden will to speak. “I appreciate it, but I think -- I think I need to. I need to do this. Could you,” she paused, pursing her lips, “could you leave Hunk and I alone for now?”

Lance stared at her for a moment, face a mesh of emotions. Finally, he gave her an understanding smile and patted Hunk on the shoulder, then stood up to leave. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

She nodded quietly, not saying anything else.

The moment Lance closed the door, the words came out fast and hurried and _anxious_ , which was so unlike her that Hunk froze for a second. She spoke in hushed whispers, as if she didn’t actually want anyone to hear what she was saying, as if she herself didn’t want to hear what was coming out of her own mouth.

He realized she was in as much denial as the rest of them, if not more.

Tears rolled down her already tear-stained cheeks halfway through her rambling. At times she almost choked on her own sobs, and Hunk tried to gently persuade her to rest, but still she continued, like she needed to talk to ground herself. She hugged herself, shaking her head, and whispered, “I’ve already lost so much, and now I lost him, and I’m so so _afraid_ of losing _more_ \--”

Hunk touched her shoulder gently in a weak attempt at comfort. “Hey, we’re paladins of Voltron. We can handle what the universe has in store for us. And,” he paused, trying to pick the right words, “I’m pretty sure he can too. He’s smart and tough. Have a little faith.”

She looked up to him with a smile like fragile porcelain.

 

Pidge didn’t notice.

She wasn’t really the type to know how someone felt in any kind of situation. I mean, if she tried hard enough she probably could, but there’s so many other things to explore and solve she didn’t think she could do a report based on observations on living organisms reacting to different situations. Not like she _couldn’t_ , but emotions were a really important factor when it came to those things. And then there were the different _spectrum_ of those emotions, which should be filed in completely different categories altogether.

Plus, emotions made everything indefinite. It just complicated things more. Emotions led people to do brash and rash and _illogical_ decisions, so she’d rather just stick with machines and technology where everything is constant, thank you very much.

That probably made her a hypocrite, seeing how she got into the current situation was entirely because of her lack of impulse control.

Still.

She was working on a new device alone in her room -- how she was coping with the current situation, how she always coped with situations in where _she loses someone she loves_ \-- when she heard the door knock. She was debating over whether or not to act like she wasn’t in, or activate the trap at the door where the ground opens and sends the disturber straight to the Altean pool, because she was trying to get her mind off things she didn’t want to think about and she _really_ didn’t want to get distracted.

“Pidge?” she heard from outside the door. “May I come in?”

Oh. It’s her.

Pidge skipped over the mess on the floor (she hadn’t cleaned up in a while because of reasons she will not disclose (procrastination. It’s because of procrastination)) and went to the door as fast as she could. Pidge didn’t know why she was visiting her, but judging from the tone of her voice Pidge thought it might have been serious. And maybe personal.

Plus, Hunk and Lance had told Pidge to keep an eye out for her and Keith. She could kinda understand why, since the situation they were in was pretty grave, and everyone was in low spirit because of what had happened, but at the same time she didn’t. Well, _Keith_ she could understand, since he was significantly closer to _him_ compared to the rest of them, but her though…

She opened the door, and lo and behold, the princess in all her glory -- except Pidge almost didn’t recognize her. She looked like a downright mess -- she was in her Altean night robes (Pidge realized that she might have accidentally locked herself in her room all day working on her new device; she should make an alarm (or maybe not, since she normally ignores those)), dress wrinkly and old like _she hadn’t changed out of it for weeks_ (and (don’t kill Pidge for saying this but) she kinda smelled a bit), hair fluffed out and tangled in knots in so many places (which was odd because for all the times Pidge had seen her she never looked any less like the definition of proper posh perfection (objectively)), and her Altean marks were a dull pink. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed, cheeks stained with dry tears.

She kinda reminded Pidge of someone, but she didn’t remember who.

_Is there anything I can do for you?_ No, too formal. Not very Pidge. _Anything you need?_ More like Pidge, but they probably weren’t close enough for that. _What’s up?_ Do Alteans even know what that means? _What’s cookin’?_ That sounded a bit like Lance and she didn’t exactly know what to do with that information.

Eh, quiznak it.

“What do you want?” Pidge asked, words harsher than intended.

Well then. That was a mistake.

“Uh, I mean…” Pidge gestured into the room. “Sure. Come in. It’s a bit of a mess.”

She looked into the room, an eyebrow raised, a corner of her lips tugged upwards in an amused smirk. “A mess, you say.”

Pidge cleared her throat, gesturing to the bed for her to sit on it, then made her way to the vacant chair beside it. (And no, she did not pout, what are you talking about.) “What’s up?”

She only looked more amused, if that was possible. “What is up?” she mused. “The ceiling, I suppose.”

Pidge stared at her and deadpanned, “You’ve been hanging out with Hunk way too much.”

She only got a laugh in response.

Pidge sighed, though a smile was apparent on her face, and looked up to her. “Ha-ha, very funny, glad you’re happy with yourself. Seriously though,” she leaned into the chair, crossing her arms, “what’d ya come here for? I thought you needed to find a new pilot for the Black Lion.”

The reaction was immediate. Her amused expression twisted into one filled with so much horror and _dread_ , and her arms instinctively wrapped around herself, like she was bracing herself for the worst. She looked away, lips pursed, biting the inside of her cheek. She reminded Pidge of a scared chipmunk.

_Bad imagery_ , Pidge chided with herself. _Very very bad imagery. I can’t unsee it now._

“Ignore what I just said,” Pidge said quickly, mind racing in a panic. _That was a really bad conversation starter_. “Let’s just act like I didn’t--”

“No.”

“But--”

“Pidge,” she spoke, and, as if her entire posture had changed completely, looked up and stared straight into Pidge’s eyes with newfound determination -- no, not newfound. That was what she used to look like. “That was why I came here. I need your opinion on that matter.”

“Uhh,” Pidge said. “Me? On what matter?”

“On which course I should take,” she spoke, her usual princess-y tone seeping into her words. And even though Pidge didn’t know her well, she had a feeling it was just a facade to convince other people she was fine, because Pidge knew someone who did something similar to what she was doing, but, again, she couldn’t remember _who_. “I’ve already asked Coran, Lance and Hunk about this, and since you’re the Green Paladin, and, well… you’re also one of the people we know that is -- was. Closer to… _him_ ,” she looked down, and for a split second Pidge could see how vulnerable she felt before it disappeared behind the fiery passion in her eyes, “I needed your opinion about how to proceed. I… I need your guidance.”

_Since he isn’t here anymore._

Pidge knew who it was now.

She remembered hidden tears. Trembling body. Quivering lips. She remembered blank stares staring into nothing. Sometimes those blank stares would turn to the family portrait on the wall, or to the empty seats at the dining table, or her own cold empty hand in need of another human’s warmth. She remembered how her voice cracked every time she spoke, when something reminded her of them. Of him.

“You,” Pidge whispered. “You loved him.”

She reminded Pidge of her mother.

“You loved him,” Pidge said again, voice progressively louder the more she spoke, surprise, disbelief, _panic_ , all laced in her words. “ _You loved him_. Oh my god Allura, I didn’t know, I’m -- this is -- _you lo_ \--”

“Stop,” she said, voice low, her old flame gone. “ _Please._ ”

The more Pidge thought about it, the more it made sense. She could definitely see the resemblance between her and Pidge’s mother -- in the way they spoke, in the way they acted, in the way their expressions were _so goddamn vulnerable they looked like they would break down if the opportunity ever arised_ , and Pidge just felt so _dumb_ and _stupid_ that _she’d been so blind and insensitive_ \--

Her sadness turned to fury, like it always did, because that was the only way she could cope with any situation too much for her to comprehend. She strode over to the princess and gripped at her shoulders, shaking her slightly, in an attempt at comfort.

“We _will_ find him,” Pidge all but _hisses_ , eyes burning with determination. “We _will_ find him, and everything will be alright, everything will go back to normal, and _you’ll be able to tell him_. I won’t let -- let _this_ happen.”

_I won’t let history repeat itself. Not in front of my own eyes._

She averted her gaze.

 

Keith didn’t even try.

He’d been busy… worrying. About things.

( _Things_ , like the responsibility that he was entrusted to, the responsibility that he was _supposed_ to carry, the responsibility that he _didn't want to carry_.

_Things_ , like about what happens next, when their leader, _the_ leader, was gone to who knows where.

_Things_ , like the silent tension in the air, the unspoken question unsaid, the dark looming sensation that seemed to gather at every dinner, every practice, when _his_ presence, _his lack of presence_ , was as obvious as the sky of the day (that they haven't seen in so so long).

_Things_ , like the fact that his mentor, the one who had the patience to guide and _care_ for him, was _gone_.

( _Things_ , like whether _he_ was already de--))

“I'm going back to my room,” he said quietly, pushing his plate of goo away to Hunk. “Tell me when there's news.”

He stood up to leave ( _pointedly not looking at the vacant seat_ ).

“Keith--"

He walked out the door ( _not noticing there was another seat, empty_ ).

It's just--He knows he's being unfair. He _knows_ everyone is sad and that he's being a selfish ass right now but he can't help but think about how _awful_ everything is and how _lonely_ he feels even though he had everyone else with him right now because it reminds him of _that one excruciating year when he_ \--

(He's not used to thinking so much.

He thinks he hates it.)

He’d hit the training deck ( _more frequently than he should_ ), sparring with gladiators ( _with levels way higher than Keith could defend himself against_ ), jabbing and slashing and cutting down drone after drone ( _because the only way he can stop getting lost in his thoughts is by not thinking, and the only way he can stop thinking is by doing whatever the quiznak he was doing_ ).

It was one way to pass time, when silence was too suffocating and deafening.

The gladiator in front of him brandished their sword at him, knees bent slightly, glowing eyes staring at him silently.

He closed his eyes, letting his mind visualize the enemy. He imagined them as Zarkon, lips curled up in a sneer; he imagined them as Haggar, fingertips sparkling with dark essence of magic; he imagined them as the druids of the Galra empire, the higher ups from the Garrison’s, his parents ( _even though he never met his mother and his dad left when he was so so young_ ), everyone who took a look at him and said, _hey, let's make his life hell_.

He imagined them as himself.

He opened his eyes, stared down at them and charged.

He’d fight until he was a sweaty mess. He’d fight until it felt like every part of him didn’t feel like a part of him anymore. He’d fight until his legs collapsed under him, to the point where he couldn’t move even a muscle.

Then he’d continue.

While he didn't exactly fancy getting the shit beaten out of him always (which was kinda a given thing to happen, since the robots were, as Lance would probably put it, _out of his league_ ), it helped take things off his mind.

( _Like the fact that the one person who grounded him from acting too impulsive or whatever the heck the people back on Earth called him was taken away from him, not once, but twice, after a few major close calls and a touch too friendly with death, because apparently the world decided poor little Keith not knowing his mother and losing his dad from some weird ass incident wasn't enough to give him the optimum angst for a tragic backstory._ )

Though sometimes.

Sometimes that wasn't enough.

Sometimes he'd go to and fro the hangar, checking on the Black Lion, trying to see if there was anything he could. Anything the Black Lion could do. Trying to see yellow eyes, trying to see if he could deactivate the barrier, trying to search for a sign, an omen, _literally anything_ , if _he_ was still in there.

“Come on,” he whispered, for the fourth time that day, looking up to the massive figure in front of him showing no signs of -- of _anything_. “ _Come on_ Black, at least give me _something_ \--”

Eventually he gave up.

Well, not gave up exactly -- it was more like he knew the ancient robot whose past was still misty to any of them, lest the princess and her adviser, would probably not open up to him, even if _he_ had probably been mentally preparing himself for it for -- for _who knows how long_.

(When he thought of it that way, it almost felt like he only chose him for insurance. _Like he already knew what was going to happen._

He tried not to dwell on it.)

Anyway.

Point.

The fate of the universe is probably as brittle as age old wood due to his inability to be a charismatic level headed person, but of course he's not gonna be able to do it.

So instead of fixing that, he'll sit in an empty hangar save for a big lion robot, speaking about senseless things aloud into the air, words dissipating without anyone hearing them, and doing absolutely nothing else except whine.

(He wondered where that rigour, that _flame_ that he had when his father left, that _determination_ to make sense of everything that didn't, the _stubbornness_ he had when he had disappeared the first time, where that passion to find and take back all the things he was robbed off went.)

“Keith.”

His body tensed, and he whirled around immediately, neck stinging in pain from whiplash. “ _What_ \--"

He'd expected her to be disgusted.

He'd expected her to be infuriated.

He'd expected her to be furious, expected her to blame him, to scream at him for not being able to do what he was entrusted to do, and even though he _knew_ she wasn't someone to be irrational in her decisions and her actions without reason, but he _couldn't help but think that_.

He didn't expect her to smile at him and sit by him on the stairs.

 

She felt it the first time he touched her.

It was a fleeting touch. It didn’t linger for long. It wasn’t even intentional -- it was convenient, he was there when she fell -- _after one of her little memoirs of where she came from was destroyed by her own hands_ \-- and she just so happened to fall into his arms.

The touch was fleeting.

The feeling wasn’t.

“Keith.”

He tensed up, neck turning around to her so fast he probably got whiplash. “ _What_ \--”

As much as she wanted to tease him for being so shook for no reason, any urge to tease him died in her throat when his expression was so _broken_. It was as if he was cowering over the thought that she was going to be furious at him for no reason, and it broke her heart.

She gave him a smile, offering a weak attempt at comfort, and sat by him, back turned to the lion.

He didn't seem any less uncomfortable, and his body tensed up even more if it was even possible, though she pretended not to notice.

Calling the air thick with tension was an understatement -- it was so _obvious_ , like even the most obtuse person could sense it.

…

In fact--

“The tension is so thick you could cut it with your Galra knife,” she blurted out, eyes widening at the words coming out of her own mouth. _I have definitely been hanging out with Hunk and Lance way too much._

Keith stared at her. She grinned sheepishly, old character broken, deciding to let loose around him, if only to let him get used to… talking to her.

(It's only come across her mind they've never properly interacted before, prior to the current scenario. (Well, if the situation they were facing could even be counted as a proper interaction anyway.))

Slowly, his lips curled up into a smile, and he raised his eyebrow at her, expression amused, old tension gone. “Was that--"

“No,” she said. “Period.”

He turned towards her fully, full out grin evident. “Whatever you say.”

“You say that like you doubt me.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You wound me.”

His expression suddenly dulled into a downcast look, and he glanced away, eyes dark with something she couldn't place -- she didn't know him enough to even begin to deduce his emotions. “You wouldn't be the first,” he murmured quietly, fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.

It was silent.

“I think,” she said, then paused, throat clogging up with the lack of words. He didn't acknowledge her and continued staring at the door like he was pondering on his chances of escaping, so she took that as an incentive to continue. “I think we need to. Talk.”

“Bonding again, huh,” he said, humorless smile plastering itself on his face. “Never get tired of those.”

“Bonding,” she mused. “Once Lance asked me if I wanted to, I quote, ‘ _bond with my mouth_ ’.”

At that, Keith laughed out loud. “God, that is literally the worst pick up line--”

She shrugged, amused. “He said he was going to use it on you.”

He choked, red faced, shrieking, “ _What_?”

She used an annoyingly high pitched tone I'm poor imitation of Lance. “ _Hi, I'm Lance, and I'm sooo cooool and I totally never talk about how beaaautiful my self proclaimed rival’s eyes are!_ ” 

Keith wheezed, face even redder, clenching her stomach as he tried to stop the bursts of laughter. “ _Oh my god, Allura_ \--”

She tapped a finger against her chin, expression mock thoughtful, and hummed. “Maybe we should make out to make him jealous.” She turned to him, wiggling her eyebrows, knowing full well she was going to regret what she was doing. “Though Lance would probably not like that, yea?”

Keith lifted his head to her, grin stretched wide. “Oh God, Allura, okay but first of all I'm _really gay_ , and second of all Shiro--"

Shiro.

She could basically hear the ‘ _quiznak, I ruined it_ ’ from his thoughts as he stood up to leave, and she reached out quick, grabbing his worst and pulling him back onto the floor with more force than she intended to use.

“Keith, listen--"

“Look, Allura, I know--"

“You don't know _anything_ \--"

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, and he snarled. “Well, maybe neither do _you_.”

“Keith--"

“I'm going back to my--"

“ _Listen to me_.”

He froze at the desperation in her voice. Turning around slowly to her, he stood in place, staring into her eyes like it was the worst thing he'd ever managed to do. His eyes widened.

She stood, hands reaching out. “We need to talk.”

He stared at her open arms, still standing in place, not doing anything else.

She took it as an invitation to speak. “Keith, I know you're very tensed up about the current situation, and trust me when I say _so are the others_. I know there's a lot on your mind right now, and that everything is hard to digest, but you are not alone.” She walked towards him, clasping his hands with her own, holding them in ardent desperation. “ _You are not alone._ ”

He looked at her like a kicked duflax. Or a puppy, or whatever Hunk had called it. He glanced away, not making eye contact with her, not _able_ to, she realized, and muttered, “He used to say that.”

A cold fist squeezed around her heart, though she maintained a calm demeanour. “I know. And it's true. Please, no one blames you for what happened. None of this was your fault.”

He looked up into her eyes, and for the first time she could understand what Lance had meant when he said Keith’s eyes were the most precious gemstones he'd ever seen. They were so beautiful and _vulnerable_ , and it felt like she was intruding on a private moment despite this moment being of her own creation.

She still preferred brown eyes though. Preferably with black hair. And a nicer personality.

“Just saying that won't convince me,” Keith muttered, though his expression softened, as if he was giving what she said a thought. “It's just -- hard.”

“I know,” she said, smiling sadly. “I may not feel the same way as you feel for him, but I _know, more so than I want to_.”

“But--but what now?” he asked, looking up to what was behind her. “We can't--”

She offered him a weak smile, letting go of his hand, glancing off to the side. “He'll be here when he's here.”

_He'll be here when he's here._

She felt it whenever the stares lingered longer than necessary. She felt it whenever their fingers brushed against each other. She felt it whenever he smiled, chuckled, laughed -- _literally anything really_ \-- whenever those fond looks were directed at her.

She felt it whenever she was around him. Thought of him. She would see something that reminded her of him and she’d feel that particular feeling so strongly to the point where she felt it might swallow her entire being alive.

She felt comfort around him. Peace. Calm. And that word she refused to acknowledge that started with the letter ‘l’.

She felt it now.

In front of her, Keith gasped aloud, eyes widening in wonder as he continued staring at what was behind her. “ _Allura_.”

She felt it before she saw it.

Her heart glowed with warmth, nudged gently to open up by a manifestation of a black lion in her mind, and she opened up to the whole of them, letting them in, spilling out her heart's contents and accepting them at the same time.

She felt an invisible red string of fate tying her to the being behind her.

She turned around in anticipation and disbelief.

The Black Lion roared, eyes glowing with such life and spirit it was hard to look at. They stared down at her, then _bowed_ \-- and then they--

_Allura, the Black Paladin._

Her hair was swept away behind her as the jaw of the Black Lion, Head of Voltron, lowered down for her to enter.

_His legacy lives on through you._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somewhere across the universe, a man opened his brown eyes with a sharp inhale.

**Author's Note:**

> could you tell i bullshitted the ending
> 
> (i hope this is okay tho fdbsj)
> 
> this was inspired by [ciuucalata's](ciuucalata.tumblr.com) [shallura fic](http://ciuucalata.tumblr.com/post/158293662549/ive-always-wanted-to-write-a-shallura-fanfic-but)! in a way this is more like a prequel for that?
> 
> i [draw](coralreefskim.tumblr.com) sometimes :3


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